Harry Potter  The boy who wished not to live
by one-of-the-order01
Summary: Harry is alone and bleeding. There's no one he can talk to. He starts to see Snape in him and soon discovers how alike they really are. NOT SLASH! Sorry if this is too close to home for some readers, it wasn't meant to offend.
1. Return to Hogwarts

**Disclaimer:**** I do not have ownage ok? NO OWNAGE HERE!!!**

**Authors Note: Well sorry for the crapness of this fic but I wanted to write one about abuse but couldn't decide what would happen in it and who would be abused. It's my first try at an abusive type fic. Constructive criticism welcomed!!!**

Chapter one 

Harry woke from a sleep he wasn't supposed to have. He lay there in the darkness for a few moments, as the "whoosh" of air that meant his uncle was on the rowing machine droned on. He was glad he was alone, but he knew it wouldn't last. His stomache growled. He'd managed to earn himself a few scraps today, scrubbing the kitchen floor until his fingers were dry and blistered. He wondered if he could take just a few more…._what if they'd been careless and left some in the bin? _He thought. He rolled out of bed and hauled himself to his feet, letting the dizziness wash over him. He crept out on to the landing. It wasn't late; only 8 or 9 o'clock, but his aunt and cousin were out and Vernon was exercising. He listened. The "whoosh" had stopped. Harry froze, every hair on the back of his neck sticking up. _Where was he?_ He crept to the top of the stairs, peering down into the kitchen. Nothing.

"_Looking for someone?"_ Harry jumped and span around, meeting uncle Vernon's livid face, twisted into a smirk that reminded him horribly of Snape. In a split second Vernon had raised a fist and Harry felt something click as it smashed into his jaw. It sent him spinning, head first down the stairs. He collided with the wall at the end, landing in a crumpled heap. He felt the familiar warmth of blood trickling down his cheek as his uncle walked casually down the stairs. Although his uncle's sudden urge to exercise gave Harry some time alone he was beginning to regret it. His uncle had been strong before, but now all his fat had turned to muscle and each blow was ten times worse than the last. He felt Vernon kicking him in the ribs over and over again, occasionally getting his stomache or face. Wheezing, Harry tried to crawl away into the kitchen, but that just angered Vernon more. He dealt Harry a kick that sent him flying through the doorway into the kitchen and he was on his back now, defenceless. Vernon stormed in, standing over him.

"What are you?" he growled.

"H-Harry, sir," whimpered the boy.

"WRONG!" his uncle lifted his foot and brought it down hard on his face then upon hearing the door open, went to greet his wife and son. Harry rolled over and got to his hands and knees. As quietly as he could, he crept past the trio and up the stairs into his room. He shut the door and slid against it, letting silent sobs rattle through him. His ribs ached and he couldn't breathe for the blood caking his broken nose. He heard aunt Petunia and Dudley in the living room, _so where was –_

His door slammed open knocking Harry forward to his knees. He was grabbed by his collar and once again was at the mercy of his uncle.

"I'm not through with you yet_, boy,"_ he spat. Harry wondered why he wouldn't just leave him alone. His uncle thought he was filth and had to scrub himself clean after every encounter with him. _So why me? Why can't they leave me alone?_

His uncle dragged him into the bathroom and they stood in front of the mirror.

"Now, _what are you?"_ he whispered so close to Harry's ear he could feel the hot breathe making him shudder.

"Filth. Vermin. The shit on your shoes." Harry choked, staring at his feet.

"I'm sorry?" His uncle jerked his head upward so Harry was looking at someone in the mirror. It took him a moment to realise he was looking at himself. In fact, it was amazing how much he and the Potions Master looked alike. His skin was deathly pale and sallow, much like the potions master's and his hair, now far too long had the same greasiness too. _But is that grease? Or blood?_ He thought. His eyes were darker than normal, and surrounded by dark circles. His scar was strangely faint and his nose was crooked and slightly hooked due to the fact it was broken. He could see his collar bones sticking out too and he wished he wasn't forced to look at this.

"Do I need to say it again? _What are you?_" Harry looked himself in the eye, putting on a blank face, trying not to show how he was feeling. He was getting pretty good at it.

"I am filth. Vermin. The shit on your shoes." He said through a mouth full of blood.

"Damn right you are! Now _boy_, you'll be returning to that – that _place_ in five days, if you'll remember," how could he forget? For once he was dreading his return to Hogwarts. He couldn't avoid a corridor jammed full of students just waiting to knock into him. He had a few spells to conceal his cuts and bruises but he knew there would be questions. On the other hand, anywhere was better than here.

"So. What are you going to say to those little _freaky friends_ of yours?" Harry swallowed hard and blinked back hot tears of fury.

"I'm stupid. I don't have the intelligence to breathe and watch where I'm going at the same time. I ran into a door, that's all," it was well rehearsed, anyone would buy it. He hoped.

"That's right. That'll teach your _freaky friends _from poking their noses in where they don't belong," Vernon grinned.

"_They're not freaks."_ As soon as he had said it, he wished he hadn't. His eyes widened with terror as he clapped his hands to his mouth, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I swear - " uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed.

"_Wait here,"_ he snarled. Harry stood, petrified, rooted to the spot. He listened as he heard his uncle in the workshop, apparently looking for something. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and his uncle re-entered the room, something hidden behind his back. There was a wicked grin on his face as he grabbed Harry's hair with his free hand, twisting his neck upward to look into Vernon's eyes. Harry squealed in pure terror as from behind him Vernon pulled his battery-powered drill. He flicked the switch and the drill bit began rotating fast, sickeningly sharp. Harry watched, helpless, as his uncle brought it slowly in front of Harry's face. He cracked.

"No please sir, I'll do anything!" His uncle's grin spread so wide he was smiling from ear to ear. A smile. Meant to be friendly, but uncle Vernon used it as a knife, twisting it deep into Harry's soul until it drew blood. Thankfully he switched off the drill and let Harry fall to the floor, shaking violently.

"Well you know how much I love to see you beg." Vernon stood in the doorframe before flicking off the light and exiting, the smile never once leaving his face. Harry was shaking, a cold sweat making his clothes cling to him like cobwebs. He hauled himself over the sink and retched, bringing back what small food he had earned. He turned on the tap and washed it away before crawling back to his room.

He didn't know how long he had waited, but it was long enough to be certain all the Dursleys were asleep and he was free to go and clean himself up. He limped to the bathroom and locked the door securely. Flicking on the light, he tried to ignore the mirror and pulled of his jeans and underwear. He peeled off his shirt, wincing as it re opened some of the cuts on his chest. They must have healed over the shirt, fusing it to his skin. He stepped into the shower and let the water wash the blood, and his troubles away. Remembering his Snape like locks, he shampooed twice and added conditioner – he didn't know when his next shower would be. He needed a haircut. Badly. He'd be returning to school as a Snape mini-me if he didn't watch it. Perhaps he could find some scissors at school_? If I could just sneak into the Muggle studies room…or Hermione is sure to have a pair…Hermione_. How he missed her so. _Why had she not written? Or Ron? Heck, he'd even be happy to get a letter from the Potions Master himself!_ Salty tears mingled with the shower water. _Gods, why would no one help him?_

He lay on his bed, wide awake, watching the seconds tick by on the clock. Today was the day! Today he would be going back to Hogwarts and away from this hell. His trunk was packed, Hedwig safely in her cage. _If only he could do something about these bruises…_He had his wand, but was only sixteen so couldn't use magic out of school except in self-defence. He would have to wait until he got on the train. Since it was school property, technically he was doing it in school. _But what if somebody sees?_ Checking the clock (it read 3:40 am) he swung his legs over the side of the bed and put on his glasses. He pulled on some clothes deciding he would never get to sleep now. Not with the nightmares around every corner. Long baggy jeans as not to irritate the cuts on his legs, a shirt much to big for him and a hoodie. Yes that should cover his face nicely. No one need ever know. _Did he dare take a shower?_ As if in answer to his unspoken question, he heard someone on the landing outside his door. He jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over his face, leaving a little gap so he could see the door. Slowly, the doorknob twisted and the door creaked open. His uncle, still in his clothes from the night before crept as silently as he could into the room. Harry could smell the whiskey from here. He was standing at the foot of Harry's bed.

"Awake already are we?" He slurred. _Oh gods, he's drunk. _Harry thought.

"Eager to leave?" Harry knew it wasn't a question so said nothing as his uncle slid the covers off him. Harry now felt completely vulnerable, like his thin blanket was some sort of brick wall that had just been broken. He felt his uncle turn him onto his back and pin his shoulders down with his knees. He felt his uncle's erection pressing into his stomache. He felt his uncle sliding one hand up Harry's shirt, and another down his waistband. Harry squealed as he felt the cold hands on him and turned away, a hot tear sliding down his cheek. Harry tried to resist but his uncle was too strong. _No! _he screamed inside his head _No! You can't have the only bit of my innocence I have left! You can't have that too! _There was a crack like a whip from out in the street. Uncle Vernon froze and sprang of Harry with surprising ease for someone so drunk. Dragging Harry with him he glared at the boy as if he had something to do with it. He punched Harry hard in the face, making his nose sear with pain as he flew across the room and hit the window. Uncle Vernon pinned him there, and with another blow to his cheek, left, slamming the door behind him. Harry thought he could feel someone watching him, but knew he was the only occupant of the room, consoling himself that it was only because you _had_ to feel that way in this house. _He_ had to feel this way, simply so he could be on his guard all the time. He fell back into be, drawing the covers up to his chin. He was trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably, stuffing his fist into his mouth to muffle the sound. He slipped into a fitful sleep, still through all the pain, hoping for the moment he stepped on board that train…

Harry woke up 4 hours later and found a list of chores at the end of his bed for him to complete before he left. Well what did he expect? A day off? Today was just any other day to the Dursleys, except slightly better as they would be rid of _him._ He crawled out of bed and lugged his heavy trunk and Hedwig to the bottom of the stairs. As he walked past his uncle's room, he noticed the door was ajar. It was dark inside and the smell of drink still hung heavy in the air. Moving his trunk and Hedwig out of the way at the bottom of the stairs, Harry checked his list of thinks to do:

1) Clean Kitchen Cupboards + Floor **(Don't touch anything)**

2) Put Garbage out for collection **(Clean up the any mess)**

3) DON'T wake me up! **(I'm warning you boy - )**

"Boy? Is that you?" Harry flinched at being called that. His uncle had forbidden the use of his given name in the house so he was referred to as "Boy" or "It" or "Brat". Harry wandered miserably into the kitchen where his aunt was holding a mop and bucket for him.

"Be quiet you intolerable filth!" Oh yeah, they called him that too. "Your uncle is still sleeping. I will be taking you to that _place_ today so you had better get those chores done or you _won't_ be _going_!" she hissed. Thrusting the mop and bucket into his hands she left quietly and began dusting, pausing only to tut disapprovingly at Harry's trunk and Hedwig. He got to work and soon the floor was sparkling. He opened the cupboards about to start on them and the contents spilled to the floor. As if his uncle had been expecting this, there was a dustpan and brush on the table with another note attached:

"_**Clean it up! **__And __**don't touch anything, I'll know if you have."**_ Harry followed the note obediently and once the whole kitchen was finished, he moved on to his next task, well aware of how late it was getting. They would need to leave at ten o'clock so as to be there for eleven and it was already nine thirty. He hurried outside and opened the bin lid. He was just about to lift out the bin bag and its contents when he saw it – a half eaten banana. He plucked it out and crammed the rotting fruit into his mouth. He had never tasted anything so good in his life. With this renewed energy running through him the rubbish was out for the dustmen to collect in no time, despite the fact that the bottoms of the bin bags were slashed and he had to clean that up too. It was ten to ten when he returned to the house. His aunt bustled in and slapped him hard across the cheek. Then, seeing he was still bleeding from his nose and now from his cheek, she tossed a dirt cloth at him;

"Clean yourself up," she spat. "And put your hood up – people can see you." She stormed over in a dainty way to pick up her car keys and she walked out the door. Quickly, Harry wiped the blood from his face and pulled on his hood before dragging his luggage (and Hedwig) out to the car. There was no room in the boot, so he sat with them in the back seat and they drove off, leaving #4 Privet Drive far behind.

It was twenty to eleven when they finally arrived at Kings Cross station. Petunia opened the doors, not moving from the car and threw him out onto the pavement with surprising force, much to the dismay of the onlookers. His suitcase followed and he only just caught Hedwig, before she screeched off back to Privet Drive. Harry got to his feet, wincing and quickly pulling his hood back over his head. Soon he was through the barrier, but instead of feeling welcome as he usually did, he was terrified. There were so many people and so much noise and after 5 weeks of next to solitary confinement and silence he suddenly felt claustrophobic. He hurried on to the train, jumping at anyone who spoke to him. He found an empty compartment at the end of the train and nearly fell inside, pushing his things on the luggage rack. Too soon he heard the door sliding open and he stood up as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lunar and Neville walked in.

"Harry mate! Great to see you!" Ron embraced him but Harry just stood there stiffly, petrified. There were so many people. He was trapped. His eyes must have show something because Ginny stepped forward and began to look at him questioningly, trying to peer under his hood.

"Harry are you alright?" He nodded a little too quickly and turned to look out the window so they could not see his face. Unconvinced, she stepped back letting Hermione talk.

"Harry me and Ron are going to the prefect's compartment for our orders. I expect Ginny, Lunar and Neville will keep you company." She and Ron left as Ginny, Lunar and Neville sat down. Harry however, remained standing.

"Why don't you sit down Harry? And take that hood down. It's like talking to a dementor!" Neville joked. Harry shook his head silently. He couldn't let them see. Quickly, he got out his wand and robes and ran to the toilet. He locked it, then cast a locking charm on the door before pulling off his clothes. He let out a sigh of relief as he realised he could now _finally_ cover up these bruises. He didn't know any healing spells and they were all too difficult for him to try so instead he used a concealing charm on each of his cuts and bruises. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked almost normal, except for his hair, which was nearly shoulder length. He decided to cast a spell on that too. It would _look_ short and spiky, even though it more resembled Snape's hair. He looked almost normal. Almost. Pulling on his robes he unlocked the door but it still wouldn't budge. The room was closing in on him. He began pummelling the on the door as his breathing became shallow and irregular. He was going to die. He was going to die here alone in this toilet. Suddenly, when he thought all hope was lost, he fell forward and looked up. Draco, looking slightly less butch with the absence of Crabbe and Goyle was standing over him, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Potter what the - " but Harry had scrambled to his feet and was pelting down the corridor to his compartment, suddenly remembering he'd cast a locking charm on the door. He skidded to a halt, just catching his breath before walking into the compartment to sit down next to Ginny. He stowed his old clothes away in his trunk and slumped against the seat, staring at his shoelaces.

"Harry what's wrong?" she placed a hand on his shoulder, making Harry flinch. Even though no one could see his, the bruises and cuts were still there. Luckily, it covered up his broken nose too. She took her hand away, casting him pitying glances. Shrinking into the corner, Harry looked out the window, glad they didn't attempt at any further conversation with him.

Finally they were out in the Hogsmead rain and filing into the Thestral-pulled carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. Harry lost Ginny, Lunar and Neville in the crowd and was strangely thankfully – maybe he could get a carriage to himself and avoid any further questions. He climbed into the last one and dumped Hedwig and his luggage on the seat. As he sat down, he sprang back up to his feet, realising he had sat on someone. _He wasn't alone._ Turning around, he bit his lip and put on his blank face to mask how terrified he was. It was Malfoy. The blonde haired youth stood up raising his hands, palms outward in an open expression of peace. Harry flinched, thinking Malfoy was about to deal him a blow for being insolent, but then remembered he wasn't at Privet Drive anymore. Somehow he still wasn't calmed.

"Whoa Potter what the fuck is wrong with you?" And Harry was surprised that Malfoy said this not in his usual sneer but in a genuine tone of concern. Malfoy sat down as not to intimidate the shorter boy and Harry followed. Harry eyed Malfoy warily but decided he wasn't being threatening for once. He stared out the window, aware he was being watched but dismissing it.

They arrived at Hogwarts soon, but not soon enough for Harry. He practically flew out of the carriage and sprinted up to the castle as fast as he could. He left his luggage in the entrance hall for it to be taken to Gryffindor tower just as Ron an Hermione joined him.

"Alright Harry?" Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. Harry winced and stepped forwards with the force but tried to force a smile onto his face, "Right then, let's eat!" Ron and Hermione led the way into the Great Hall and Harry followed, the smile slipping off his now blank face. He shuffled into the hall, the claustrophobia coming back at the sight of all the people and noise. He had to stop himself screaming when Nearly Headless Nick floated through him but couldn't stop himself jumping at least a foot in the air.

"Sorry Harry!" grinned the ghost

"Don't worry," Harry bluffed, "You just made me jump is all," and he forced another painful smile before joining Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor Table. Harry smelt the food and his stomache growled. He piled on copious amounts of food and wolfed it down. He turned, a chicken drumstick hanging from his mouth to see his friends staring at him. Ron, of all people looked disgusted. Hermione on the other hand looked concerned.

"Harry slow down, people would think you hadn't eaten all summer," Harry swallowed and dropped the drumstick. _How much did they know? I have to stop eating._ He thought. _And besides, if I get fat, uncle Vernon might get angry and…_ Harry had suddenly lost his appetite. Pushing the plate full of food away from him he sank low in his seat, aware of someone watching him. He scanned the crowds fearfully, _How many people had noticed?_ But he couldn't see one single person looking at him. He dragged his eyes up to the staff table and he felt black eyes lock his green ones. Snape was watching him, his eyes narrowed and he was obviously not listening to McGonagall who seemed to be talking to him. He glared at Harry, much resembling the glare of uncle Vernon. Harry flinched as if he had been hit again. He broke eye contact and felt the Potions Master avert his gaze. Harry slumped even _lower_ in his seat, doubling over, his head in his hands. He was glad no one was paying attention to him. He just wanted to go to bed. He wasn't really thinking, but odd random thoughts came into his head every once in a while. _I wonder if my broom's ok…my robes are too small…_and they were. His trousers were at least two inches to short and a jolt of panic shot through him. _Oh no, my bruises!_ He reached down, and then sighed. _Oh yeah, the spell. Shame it only lasts for 24 hours._ He felt once again the heavy gaze of those black eyes upon him but decided not to look at Snape. He saw too much of his uncle in him.

Later in the dorms Harry changed quickly and got into bed. He didn't feel like talking so he pulled the curtains around his four-poster shut. Before he knew it, he was crying. He was so tired. So hurt and tired. _Why me? Why won't anyone help me? Where are you Sirius? You promised you'd be there for me. You promised…_


	2. A little concerned

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated merchandise, characters / plots and or scenery. This all belongs to J.K Rowling (luck sod - )

**Authors Note: **After reading through my last chapter I was aware of several typos so I apologise for that but I simply don't have the patience to double-check my work. Another crap chapter…and here it is! (oh and I'm trying to keep Snape as in character as possible but I might just fail…)

Chapter two

Professor Snape sat alone in his office marking some papers overdue from last year (if only he hadn't been trailing that nuisance Potter) when he put down his quill for the seventh time that evening. Potter. A peculiar boy to say the least…but he had not always been so…now he seemed so much les…_Potter-ish._ He had watched as the boy had walked into the Hall and the first thing he noticed was that he was not leading his "posse" as usual, but following in a sort of dejected, stooping shuffle. He seemed to wince as he sat down, and then fell upon the food giving the air of a starved African child. He stopped to talk to his friends (a most _disgusting _piece of food still in his mouth) then swallowed hard and pushed his food away. Yes, there was definitely something wrong. Not only that had the boy looked around fearfully then up at the Staff Table where he had locked onto the boy, trying to probe his mind with _Legilimens._ He had tried to dismiss his lack of clarity as the long distance, for when he had looked, he had only seen a blaze of colour…black and red, a small boy in a corner and an indistinguishable figure looming over him, much like a grizzly bear. Not knowing what else to do, he glared at Potter, who flinched and looked away.

He had been trying to read the boy's face, but it was strangely blank. Potter had obviously been lost in thought when a sudden look of panic crossed his face as he reached for the hem of his robes. Curios, Snape saw nothing but ankle, and tutted depreciatively at the ill-fitting garments. _Teenagers._ He thought. _So eager to expose every bit of skin possible._ But it seemed this was not the case. Why panic if this was the new '_trend_', if it was '_hip_'? Yes this was definitely worth looking into.

Back in his office, Snape closed his eyes tight shut, trying to block out more memories. Why was it always memories? Why was Potter taking him back to his past? _Why do I care?_ He thought.

_He had always been clumsy._

_Always knocking into things._

_A chair_

_A door_

A fist… 

He checked the door subconsciously and shook his head. No this matter was not worth contemplating. Besides, Potter would probably be back to normal by tomorrow's lesson. The same old stuck up, arrogant Potter. Just like his father.

---------------------------------------------------Harry-------------------------------------------------

He was back in Privet Drive. He was three. It was a hot summers day, and Harry was watching Dudley ride on his new, shiny, red tricycle. He really wanted a go. But he knew he couldn't. He returned to his dusting, stumbling a little as he'd only just picked up how to walk from watching Dudley do it. He wasn't yet out of diapers either, he hadn't been taught how to use a potty so had no idea how to do it. It was only a few minutes later when he heard a 'thump' and then crying. He ran to the doorway leading onto the back garden and saw his tubby (to say the least) tyke of a cousin on the floor, his new toy crushed. Aunt Petunia came running out, followed by a much slower Uncle Vernon.

"_Diddy-kins!" she wailed. Though his uncle seemed to be more fixed on Harry. He glared and then lifted Harry up and into the house, taking off the little clothes Harry was wearing, off. Without a word his Uncle lifted him up and put him down on the stove, turning the heat up to full. Harry screamed, a blood curdling, toddler-like scream as the hot stove scorched his back. Writhing in pain, he rolled off and onto the hard floor with a loud 'crack' as he landed on his arm. All down the back of his body was red raw and blistering, and all his uncle did was laugh. Later, when Dudley was taken to the hospital from his tricycle-related accident, the doctor spotted Harry's broken arm. He asked what was wrong and uncle Vernon dismissed it with such ease that it was easily believable, to anyone but a trained professional. He bluffed that his clumsy nephew had tripped down the stairs and landed awkwardly. The doctor didn't say anything, but you could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't buying it. He put a cast on it and gave Harry a lolly, which his uncle took and gave to Dudley. He couldn't quite remember what had happened that night, he didn't really want to. All he could remember was his uncle's vapid fury at Harry 'telling' the doctor, and a flash of metal as something was thrust deep into his stomache. Then wrapping him in a towel tightly, to stop the bleeding he'd been given some sleeping pills to take and was thrown into his room. A flash of silver and a stab to the stomache…he'd still got the scar._

Harry awoke, thrashing around in his bed, the covers wrapped tight around him like a cocoon. He was covered in cold sweat and his throat was sore – apparently he'd been screaming. The rest of the Gryffindor boys were crowded round his four poster and he felt incredibly like an attraction at the zoo. Then he remembered – the spell must be wearing off. He pulled the covers over his head hastily, muffling the whispers of his friends.

"Harry what's wrong? Seriously?" It was Ron. Harry felt him tugging gently at the covers, trying to see his face.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME!" he yelled. He scrunched up into a ball and buried his face in the pillow.

"Alright, alright back to bed. There's nothing to see here," Seamus came to the rescue. They didn't need telling twice, and as no sooner had they got back into bed did Harry hear heavy breathing and Neville's snores. He reached over to the bedside cabinet and felt for his glasses. The clock read 4:25. _Good._ He thought. _No one will be awake, I can go to the Muggle Studies room and find those scissors…then go cover up again in the bathroom on the same floor._ He dragged himself out of bed and picked up his wand.

It was hard to tell where he was going, and he daren't cast _Lumos_ so it took him longer than expected. It took him a further twenty minutes at least to locate a pair of scissors in the dark room and another five minutes to relocate the door. When at last he was back out in the corridor, he strolled off quicker than before, hurrying to see to himself and get back to the dorms before the others woke up. He bumped into something hard and he heard someone mutter "Lumos!" as a bright light erupted from the tip of said someone's wand. He looked up into the face of the caster and took a step back, covering his face.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? Out for an early morning stroll were we Potter?"

"No, Professor Snape. I was just - " he felt Snape turn his hand over, inspecting the scissors.

"Care to explain? And look at me Potter, stop hiding," Snape grasped his arms firmly and pulled them to his sides. He looked away, unable to meet the Potion's Master's gaze.

"I did not notice your – _different_ – hair cut yesterday, Mr Potter. An accident with a hair growth potion, I suspect?"

"Er, yes Professor, that's exactly what happened," he seized at the opportunity.

"In that case, I'll see you in detention, where I will _show_ you how to brew such a Potion. But what's this…" Harry felt a surprisingly warm finger trace down the bridge of his crooked nose, then to the bruise on his jaw. He yelped in pain and sprang backwards, "What happened to _you_?" Snape tilted his chin, but Harry would still not meet his gaze. He shut his eyes tight, afraid he might be having his mind read. After a long and awkward pause, the Potions Master spoke,

"Very well. I will see you in detention, after last lesson tomorrow, my office." Harry nodded numbly and walked carefully into the bathroom.

---------------------------------------------------Snape-------------------------------------------------

What had Potter been doing to himself? He looked at the faint but visible bluey-black bruise on his jaw and his obviously broken nose, tracing them with his finger to make sure they were genuine. The boy's yelp of pain was proof enough. The boy seemed…neglected. _No, I bet his family would never…_But that night when Snape had been ordered by Dumbledore to trail Harry. He'd just apparated in Privet Drive and there had been loud banging from Harry's room and someone had flown against the window. What had happened there? _No._ he reasoned. _He comes from a happy family. Probably just got angry and hit the wall._

But his hair…matted and unkempt, not to mention as long (if not longer) than his own. He knew Potter hadn't been using a hair growth potion but decided to keep him in detention anyway to attempt to find out the real source. Never before had he seen Potter so scared. But then again, never before had he cared. _Wait, I _still _don't care. Do I? No. No I don't._ _But he couldn't even look at me!_ He thought. _Where did all those bruises come from? Ha! Maybe Mr Malfoy had finally taught him a lesson. Perhaps I should go to Dumbledore? No. I'll find out myself._ He stormed off, his cape billowing out behind him.


	3. In a little too far

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything nor will I ever own anything except perhaps a small cardboard box where I shall live haha.

Chapter 3 

Harry watched as locks of jet black hair fell into the sink, along with the 'snip…snip' as he hacked away at them. _Stupid Snape_…snip…_poking his greasy_…snip…_nose_…snip…_in it._ _More like stupid uncle Vernon for making me like this._ He jumped and glanced over his shoulder, just in case Vernon had heard him, even though he knew this was impossible. When he was done, he looked in the mirror to see how it had turned out. It was ok, considering he had no clue in the hairdressing realms and he'd done it with a pair of paper scissors. He'd cut a scruffy side fringe of sharp bangs over one eye, covering the black eye nicely. He'd also cut his hair to its normal length so it no longer resembled Snape's. He stripped off and, locking the door, got into the showers. Gasping a little as the water stung his various wounds and afflictions, he tried to forget about everything and washed the blood, grease and worries from him. After he'd stayed in as long as he dared, he dried himself and set to work on concealing…well everything. Once he was done, he pulled on his pyjamas and ran back to the dormitories, pulled on his robes, grabbed his things and sprinted down to breakfast. He sat down heavily next to Ron and Hermione who stopped talking as soon as he came within earshot. It was obvious what the topic of their discussion had been.

"Whoa I like your hair Harry!" said Ron admiringly.

"Thanks," Harry replied half-heartedly and watched as the other two ate, wishing he could do so himself. Oh how he wanted to, just the mouth watering smell of just a simple piece of bread, toasted to a golden brown, lathered in golden yellow butter…

"Harry?" Hermione had obviously been talking to him.

"Oh right, what?"

"I was just saying me and Ronald were going to go to the Library after lessons. You want to accompany us?"

"Can't. I've got a detention with Snape." He cringed inwardly at the thought.

"What? Already? _I_ haven't even got a detention yet!" Ron was obviously astounded that Harry had beaten his record, "Well whatever. C'mon, or we'll be late for Potions - you don't want another detention."

"Mr Potter. MR POTTER!" someone was nudging him. He looked up, glaring at Ron who was obviously the culprit, and was jerking his head oddly to the side. Harry looked forward and flinched instinctively. Professor Snape was glaring at him, a look of pure venom in his eyes. _Of all the classes to fall asleep in – _

"Mr Potter! Will you kindly answer the question!" he spat.

"Er – sorry sir, I don't think I heard the question," maybe if he could just talk his way out of this –

"That's because you were ASLEEP!" – apparently not. Snape slammed his hands down on Harry's desk and leaned forward frighteningly close. Harry screamed and fell backwards off his stool, much to the amusement of the rest of the class who burst into fits of laughter. Ron hooked a hand under Harry's arm and pulled him back to his feet. Harry stood there shakily, trembling from head to toe, his hands frozen to his side.

"Potter what is the matter with you?!" inquired Snape in a far less intimidating voice.

"I'm stupid. Filth. Vermin." He could not help himself saying it. The well rehearsed words just spilt out to more raucous laughter and a "Too right!" from Pansy Parkinson.

"Enough!" Snape silenced the class with a wave of his hand, his eyes still fixed on Harry's petrified face, "Mr Potter. You will join me for another week's detention on top of tonights. Everyone," he turned and walked back to the front of the class, "Turn to page 364."

The rest of the day could not have gone worse for Harry. He was so tired from many sleeps lost to nightmares and a severe lack of food that for the few classes he _did _stay awake in, he could not concentrate and made fatal mistakes. In transfiguration, when Harry had been shaking so badly he had transformed Neville's chair into a wombat instead of the pebble they were _supposed_ to be transfiguring, Professor McGonagall had said that he needed some sense knocked into him, to which he had paled and flinched instinctively, cowering in his seat. When the end of the day came, he wanted nothing less than to go back to the dorms and sleep, but he knew he had a detention with Snape. He feared every step that took him closer to the dungeons, and his impending doom. His palms were sweaty and his whole body was shaking like a leaf. _I can't do this._ He thought. _What if he's been talking to uncle Vernon, and he's gonna fill in for him while I'm here? What if he tries to hit me? What if he tries to…to rape me?_ He was at the top of the stairs to the dungeon and he tried to grab onto the handrail for support, but he slipped and fell headfirst, through the door into the dungeons. Snape, who had been marking essays looked up, startled.

"Mr Potter what is the meaning of this?" He stood up and walked over to the cowering boy. Harry retreated into a corner but was hastily pulled away and to his feet by the Potions Master. They stood, looking into each others eyes, black met green and Snape once more probed his mind.

_A tall burly figure of a man was advancing, his fists raised. They swung, but the small boy ducked, thus infuriating the man more, and causing a heavy torrent of blows. The boy squealed in pain, his hands covering his face uselessly…_

The boy was sitting in the corner of a small dark room as the door creaked open and the man was there again. The boy was wrenched out of the room and kicked brutally down the stairs. He collided with the open door and –

Snape clapped his hand to his forehead in pain….the _Legilimens _was reversing on him…

_Someone was punching him in the back. He fell forward and hit his head on the table in the kitchen and crumpled, unconscious._

He was pressed against the cold, damp wall of his room as he watched a slim light crawl up the wall as the door opened. Someone tall and muscular was casting a shadow as he stood in the doorframe. He watched it get bigger…and bigger, fists raised, ready to strike…

"ENOUGH!" Snape exploded. He would not let Potter see that. He would not go there again. But how strange those jumble of memories were…the first he knew were Potter's, as he could not recall ever being there. And the figures, though blurred and fuzzy, were enough to tell what was happening. But the boy looked perfectly fine – no cuts, no bruises, and those blows would surely have left a mark. He looked perfectly normal save the emptiness in his eyes and the despair in his face. Snape could not act upon just memories. He would need to know the full story.

"Potter - " he reached out a hand to place on the boy's shoulder, but he squealed and tripped over backwards in his haste to get away. He sighed, extending a hand to help him up. Harry ignored it and got up regardless and went to sit down at a desk. _Very well._ Snape thought. _This shell is going to be hard to crack._

The hours passed slowly, but when Harry was finally dismissed, he would have run if it were not for his exhaustion. This had definitely been the worst first day back to Hogwarts, ever. He was screaming inside, ashamed at what his teacher had just seen. For he had seen it too. Not very clear, but he knew who those figures were. He could recognise that man anywhere. But the second set of memories were not his own…he was sure of that. So who's were they? Snape's? Surely not…but Harry had never heard of a three-way _Legilimens_. Either way he was glad to be rid of the place, and promised himself he would not allow Snape to make eye contact with him again. He could not risk another outburst like that.

When he finally got back to the dorms, it was already 11:30. Unwillingly, he pulled on some pyjamas and fell onto his bed, not bothering to get under the covers. He knew he would have to get up early again so as to cover up and take a shower, but he was dreading it. Almost instantly he fell to sleep only to be tormented, once again, by strong dreams of Privet Drive.


	4. Some wounds will never heal

**Disclaimer:** Think of me as an ownage-less hobo. I own nothing. NOTHING!!!

**Authors note:** I only go this chapter out so quickly because I'd pre-written it and this was the inspiration that got me started on this fic, but I knew I had to give some sort of introduction to it. Anyways, I'm basically saying, don't get used to chapters being put up so fast!

Chapter four 

"No please," he begged, "have mercy father,"

"_I'll show you no mercy,"_ he lifted a steady fist and swung it at the boy, sending him sprawling across the kitchen floor, hitting the table and causing several food items to fall to the ground, smashing a plate as they went. If it hadn't been for the savage beating he had to endure, the boy would have fallen upon the food. He had always been skinny, but now he had the pinched, sallow skin of someone with anorexia. He was denied food, save the occasional morsel that accidentally left his parents plates and slipped to the floor. His father loomed over him, like a towering wave, about to crash down on him all too soon. The boy felt a foot collide with his stomache, hooking under his already bruised ribs and making him squeal. Tucking his knees up to his chest to protect his vital organs he waited for the next blow to fall. But it did not come. Instead he felt a firm hand grab his jet-black hair, dragging him to his feet, holding him inches off the ground. Something cold and jagged was being pressed against his throat and as he looked down, he saw a shard of the broken plate at his Adams apple.

"_Look at me,"_ the man hissed, jerking the boy's head upward. Cold dark eyes met those of similar colour, except the man's eyes were glittering with malice, whereas the boy's were blackened with fear. He hated being related to this man, but refused even to think it, in case his father could hear his thoughts

"_You little brat. You deserve to be dead," _he spat. Yet he removed the shard from the boy's throat and his son let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. He was dropped to the floor as his father raised the pate shard. The boycowered, propped on one elbow, shielding himself with the other arm. As he lifted the arm to cover his face he felt a cold something slicing through the flesh of his forearm. He cried out in pain as blood spattered the floor.

"Get up. And clean up this mess!" The boy waited until he heard his father running a bath before he moved, and quickly mopped up the blood putting the food back on the table. He wanted to eat. He would have, if he were not in fear of what would happen to him if he did. His parents would know there was food missing, and would make him vomit until his throat was sore and his stomache empty. Making sure the room was spotless, he tiptoed upstairs and past the bathroom where the door was ajar. Suddenly he was yanked by the collar into the bathroom as his father slammed the door behind him.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded. The boy hesitated, "_Take them off,"_ the man's voice had gone quiet – always a danger sign. Reluctantly, the boy peeled off his shirt, shorts (originally trousers which he had long since outgrown) and underwear. The man advanced, lifting the petrified boy and plunging him into the bath. The boy yelped as the scalding water burnt every inch of his skin save his head which was still mercifully above water. Placing a heavy gloved hand on the boy's chest, the man held him underwater despite the struggle. Then man smirked as he watched the water turn scarlet from the deep gash in the arm of the boy, still bleeding from where he had cut it. As soon as the water began to cool down, the boy was wrenched out of the bath, his red and blistered body still struggling. His father picked up his clothes, and then the boy, and threw him bodily into his room. It was a small room, devoid of everything save a small nest-like pile of rags in the corner and it was pitch black; the only light came from the landing pouring through the open door. At night the boy wished for a streetlight, which seemed to have disappeared since his windows had been boarded up. Clutching his clothes, he watched as his father stood in the doorframe, his hand poised on the doorknob. The boy pulled on his underwear and shorts, but wrapped the shirt tight around his bleeding arm. As his father closed the door, he left the boy with three chilling, twisted words, which would haunt the boy forever. They were normal words, probably said to every other child around the country, except _they_ weren't dreading the morning. _Their _parents meant it. _Their _parents loved them. As the door creaked shut, the words seemed to hang in the still air.

"Good night, Severus."

Severus awoke with a start, panting slightly, a cold sweat causing his silk duvet and pyjamas to stick to him. He checked the clock. Ten to midnight. He fell back on his pillows and cursed the day he'd used _Legilimens_ on Potter. It had been 4 days since their last encounter and Snape had been having a recurring nightmare ever since. It was always the same one: him, standing in the corner of his small room, watching as the shadow of his father grew on the wall as he drew ever closer…but now this one too? Far more vivid…stupid Potter. _I'll never get to sleep now._ So he swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his black cape. He'd just patrol the corridors for a bit, maybe that would calm his nerves. But he couldn't help feeling he hadn't been the only one who'd been watching his dream…

------------------------------------------------Harry------------------------------------------------

Harry awoke with a dull 'thud' as he hit the floor. He was twisted in his sheets and he felt like he couldn't breathe. _What's happening to me?_ He thought. It was bad enough when he'd been having his own nightmares…but now someone else's too? _Who was that boy? And what is he doing in _my_ dream? It looked oddly like…no…it couldn't be…_he untangled himself and grabbing his glasses and wand, ran out into the main school, stopping only to glance at the clock. Ten to midnight. His stomache growled loudly, nearly alerting Peeves to his presence. Now _that_ would be a disaster. It growled again. Maybe he could sneak down to the kitchens to get some food on the way to the bathrooms? Changing his course, he ran down a corridor, letting his hunger guide him. Maybe if he'd been more careful, he could have avoided what happened next. He ran into something tall and black and fell over, squinting into the darkness. Whoever, or whatever he'd bumped into seemed to stagger backwards with the force in which Harry had run into him, but recovered quickly.

"_Lumos,"_ said a silky voice. O_h no, not again_. He thought. Just the hem of the Potions Master's robe was enough to scare him thoroughly. He skittered backwards until he hit a wall, and in a few steps Snape was in front of him.

"Potter what the devil are you - " he gasped, something so rare that made Harry look up in surprise, completely forgetting that by this time the concealment charm had worn off. Snape crouched down in front of him wand raised to cast more light. His eyes were wide and they displayed some emotion that Harry couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't anger or pity…more like…shock. He dropped his wand, though it didn't extinguish itself, and Severus cupped Harry's chin in his hands, tilting it slightly so more light was shed on it. He looked on the clearly broken nose caked in old, black blood, on the bruised jaw, the cut lip. Brushing Harry's fringe aside, he nodded, as if seeing his black eye confirmed his suspicions. It seemed Harry's stomache was determined to speak out at exactly the wrong moment, as it gave a loud, thunderous growl of protest, making Harry blush furiously.

"Potter…you look…" Harry looked into his eyes, his own, hurt and defiant, making Snape change tact, "When did you last eat?" Harry shook his head, for he truly couldn't remember, "Well we can't have that now can we?" Standing up, he held out a hand for Harry to take, which this time, he did. But it appeared, either out of fear or hunger, Harry's body was ready to give up, and he fell, Snape catching him just in time. He pulled an arm around his broad shoulder to support him, and Harry was too weak to care. Slowly, they hobbled back to Snape's quarters, which scared Harry even more. _What's he going to do to me? Please…please don't rape me._ Locking the door behind them, Snape set Harry down on a black leather sofa in front of an empty fireplace. Snape pointed his wand at the grate "Incantatum, inflamari!" and the fire sprang into life, making Harry jump visibly. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape shake his head as he pulled off his cloak and came to sit on a squish armchair next to the sofa. He clicked his fingers, and a small house elf appeared before them,

"Pebly, I think Mr Potter here needs some food. Nothing extravagant – nothing his stomache can't handle. Some bread and hot water would be fine," the house elf vanished and returned seconds later with a tray heaped with many slices of white bread and two empty glasses and a pitcher of water.

"Anything else master?" he squeaked.

"Not for now, thank you," the house elf vanished. They sat there in silence, Harry sat there stiffly, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball, and Severus watching him politely. After a few minutes, the latter thought it appropriate to speak,

"You may eat, the food is there for you, Harry," Harry looked up, alarmed at being called by his given name. He was confused, why was the most formidable Snape being so…nice? Was he trying to poison him? He needed clarity, was he friend? Or foe? His stomache gave another involuntary squirm and Harry lurched for the bread, cramming as much in his mouth as he could possibly allow. Choking, Snape patted him on the back, making Harry flinch. Snape withdrew his hand quickly and continued just watching Harry eat. When he was quite finished, he took a sip of water and set the cup back down on the coaster. Silence. Minutes passed, Snape looking at Harry, Harry looking anywhere but back at him.

"Harry, what happened to you?" the question was direct and to the point, and Harry felt tears well up in his eyes, as he simply shook his head. He could not tell. He'd never survive to come back to school if he did.

"Please tell me. If you don't, I can't help you. What happened?" he asked again. Harry shook his head more vigorously this time, tears streaming down his cheek.

"Can you at least tell me _why_ I cannot know? Would you feel more comfortable talking to someone else?" this last question held a note of hurt and Harry hid his face in his hands, still shaking his head.

"If I t-tell you," he said in a wobbly voice, "then he'll – he'll come and get me. He said he'd k-kill me if I told," He looked up and into Snape's eyes for the first time that night, "y-you're not going to m-make me are you?"

"No, no I'm not. But I implore you Harry, please tell me. I'm not going to tell anyone unless you want me to, but I want to help you. I mean, look at you. Cuts and bruises everywhere…and your nose is starting to resemble mine…" Harry whimpered and began to cry uncontrollably, sobbing into his hands.

"It's not my fault. I'm stupid. I don't have the intelligence to breathe and watch where I'm going at the same time. I ran into a door, that's all!" he was rocking backwards and forwards, reciting the words, his knees drawn tight up to his chest, his hands still covering his face, muffling his words. "I am filth. Vermin. The shit on your shoes. Filth. Vermin - " he felt warm hands grasping his wrists as Snape pulled his trembling hands away from his face. Snape was crouched in front of him, and he looked tortured to say the least. His eyes were…feeling his pain.

"What happened to you?" he breathed, scanning the boy's face. The more he thought about it, the more Harry was coming to remind him of himself. More sobbing, "Harry, I will protect you. Understand that I will not let _anything_ happen to you," _What was he doing? He didn't care about this boy…and yet…it was like he was looking at himself in the mirror, a younger him. He hated the child…and yet he loved hi. He knew he had to save Harry, just because no one had saved him_.

"My uncle…he…he hit me…beats me…hurts me…I didn't mean to do it…I swear…" it seemed Harry was switching between talking to Snape, and defending himself from his uncle, like some sort of schizophrenic, "…I was _so hungry_…I thought I could get some food…he kicked me…s-stamped on my f-face…cut my arm with the plate I smashed…_I_ wanted that tricycle…he p-put me on the s-stove…" he yelped and tried to struggle out of Snape's grip, but he would not let go. Snape nodded and tried to hide the horror as comprehension dawned upon him. Those blurred images were now so clear. He envisioned a small boy…somewhere a cross between Harry and himself being beaten, starved, broken. He felt hot tears sting his own eyes and he blinked them back, but they stayed fast.

"I – I understand," and he said it with conviction. Harry glared at him.

"How could you possibly understand…do you know what its l-like? I can't look myself in the mirror anymore. Can't you understand?"

"Yes." Snape tried to tell him everything with his eyes, knowing he could not do it with words. He sighed, knowing that it was the only way to gain Harry's trust. He opened his mind, and pulled Harry in.

A small boy sat in a corner, listening as he heard his drunken father arguing with his mother.

"_No Tobias! Don't hurt poor little Sevvy! Please!" Slap! A young Snape felt his blood boil. He ran out into the corridor._

"_Don't you touch my mother!" his voice sounded small and frightened, and he couldn't cover the shake in it._

"_What did you say to me?" the boy cowered as his father smashed a heavy hand onto his son's head and slit his leg with the smashed beer bottle. There was blood everywhere, and still his father continued to kick him, pulling out a metal cane, and continued with that._

Another memory. Snape sat huddled in the corner, curled into a ball amongst the rags he used as bedding. It was late and he couldn't sleep for his mother's screams. It was the middle of winter and his father had insisted he keep the window wide open. Snape looked at his bleeding leg as his hands turned blue with the cold…

Snape looked at his hands, just to make sure they were normal colour and grimaced. Harry was looking at him with a look of knowing.

"Professor I - "

"It's ok. Harry why didn't you tell anyone? How did you keep it covered up for so long?"

"Concealment charms…you know I c-couldn't tell," he sobbed. His head fell back onto the sofa and he closed his eyes warily. There was age beyond his years in his face. He didn't deserve this. Where had his childhood gone?

"Well what do you want me to do about these bruises? I can heal most of them, but the some scars will never heal." Harry knew he wasn't talking about the ones on the inside, "and I think I can do something about that broken nose before it heals crooked like mine did. Would you like that?" Harry nodded numbly. Snape moved to a cabinet and when he returned with a vile of potion he smiled. Harry was asleep, still sitting upright on the leather sofa. Bending over, Snape unbuttoned his shirt to see the worst of the damage. Another jolt of shock ran through him, he hadn't been expecting it to be this bad. All along his collar bone was bruised and his neck too, like he had been throttled. His chest was burnt and his ribs were poking out. He was definitely emaciated to say the least. He could see the pale scar to the left of his stomache where he must have been stabbed and around his left forearm was more finger-shaped bruises and on his right was a long laceration, probably from that plate. All down his back was red and scarred, the remainders of the stove incident. There were scratch marks starting at about his navel and they disappeared beneath Harry's waistband. Snape wasn't going to ask about that. Yet. He sighed and shook his head. He could heal a little while Harry slept, but to heal all the wounds completely would take time and encouragement. But Snape knew all too well, that some wounds could not be healed by potions.


End file.
